Against All Odds
by temporary placeholder
Summary: Christmas, fifth year. What can a simple encounter in the owlery turn my world into? I mean, she's just a Slytherin, isn't she? Female Blaise Zabini.
1. Chapter 1

My second fanfic, and this takes place in the middle of fifth year, just before Christmas holidays. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But I own anything you don't recognize. Character developments, plot, etc. Email me if you want to use something from my story, and I'll reply.

Chapter 1: The First Steps

It was a Thursday, and it was also the last week of classes before holiday break. Tomorrow was going to be the last of classes, and then... I'm all alone in the castle. Well, the only Gryffindor, anyway. McGonagall passed around the sign up sheet for winter holidays yesterday, and I was relieved and saddened to see that I would be the only one in Gryffindor. Relieved, because then no one would bother me with useless comments about whatever or always keep on pressuring me to do homework or go talk to Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione. Really, I loved them both, but they just didn't know when to stop. It was getting pretty frustrating, actually. I needed to blow some steam. But I was also sad, because that little slip of parchment with my lonesome name on it was just another cruel reminder that I had to one to care for me in the world. No family. I smiled grimly. Oh, life was good.

I opened my eyes from my thoughts and stared at the ceiling of my dormitory. I could faintly hear the rest of Gryffindor house in the common room downstairs, laughing and playing before holidays. I felt like screaming. Voldemort was back and no one knew. Not that they would care, anyway. Just leave it up to the Ministry! Tch, yeah right. The world would have a better chance in the hands of a hamster. Whoops, I guess I better not insult the hamster by comparing it to the Ministry. I chuckled at my own little cliché joke. Perhaps I was going a little crazy now, laughing at my own jokes. I bantered with myself for a few more moments, not really sure of what to do, and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

_I was sitting in a surprisingly light filled room, illuminated by the many fires suspended in mid-air. The chair I was sitting in was very cushiony, and relaxed my body. It was on a platform, about 5 steps above the rest of the room. The room was very much like the Hogwarts great hall, in fact, it was so similar, I'd've thought that it _was_ the great hall, if not for the fact that I knew that I was in Voldemort's body__.__ There were four long tables in the that took up the majority of the hall, and Voldemort, I, was siting at the head table, with what I guessed to be members of the inner circle around me, much like Hogwarts._

_It was obviously dinner time, although a little late, and I was surprised at how... normal it seemed. Death Eaters were laughing and playing around like normal wizards and witches and were altogether having a good time. The members of the inner circle were chuckling at a joke made by Rookwood, and even Voldemort was laughing. _

_It was still freaky, watching my sworn enemy laughing and joking around with his following like good buddies. But wait a second.... something was wrong. These Death Eaters seemed different... they seemed familiar. One of them turned my way and grinned toothily. I realized with a jolt that it was Ron. But wait! Ron wasn't a Death Eater! Neither __were__... Hermione, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, and many of my classmates. Something was definitely wrong._

_My vision suddenly swirled, and everything disappeared in a flash of light. Then, I was suddenly in a dark void. Absolutely nothing existed. I was relieved that I was back in my own body. I turned around a bit, and examined my body to make sure it was real. A small pop from behind me got my attention, and I immediately turned 180 degrees to face whatever was there._

_I was not prepared, however, to come face to face, literally, with Voldemort. Or rather, just his head. The pale skin of his body seemingly shone in the darkness, and his crimson red eyes blazed with madness. A maniac crackle exploded from within his mouth, and Voldemort started to laugh crazily, his eyes shining with a unworldly glint._

_The head headbutted me and got in my face, so much that I could smell the disgusting stench of Voldemort's breath which sent shivers down my spine. I screamed._

I shot up in my bed, still screaming. There was a rush of noise, and the dorm door burst open, Ron and Hermione at the forefront. Oh, not again. Here goes another round of "are you okay?" and "go tell Dumbledore."

----------------------------------------------------

I walked slowly down the corridor to the owlery, carrying a letter to Dumbledore in my left hand, my wand in my right. I had, after much prodding from Ron and Hermione, written a letter to Dumbledore, although I chose not to tell Sirius. Fatigue was catching up to me, fueled by the recent visions of Voldemort, so that I was practically walking against the wall. I faintly heard the sound of Mrs. Norris' screech a couple of floors down, no doubt caused by some late night wanderers, like me, who had run into her.

Sighing, I climbed the last few steps to the owlery and stepped onto the dung covered hay floor of the tower. Dozens upon dozens of owls were here, most of them sleeping. A flash of white near the top drew my attention, and I peered through the thick grove of feathery creatures to see my faithful companion, Hedwig, recognize my presence and flying down towards me.

At last, I felt the last of my energies drain away, and collapsed heavily against the wall and onto the hay, my breath coming in heavy sighs. Hedwig landed on my shoulder, and hooted softly, almost as if she knew my fatigue.

I gently stroked her feathers, whispering comforting words. I tied the small piece of parchment that was my letter to her leg, and she flew off into the night with one last hoot. I gave another heavy sigh and closed my eyes. _I'll just sit here for five minutes..._ My drowsiness went through my entire body from top to bottom in a cold shiver, and I rocked back and forth silently, pulling my robes together against the frosty winter wind of the night.

I don't know how long I stayed there, but I was suddenly shaken out of my stupor by a slight ruffling, and my senses took a moment to recalibrate - someone else had come into the owlery. But who? Who would be up in the dead of night sending a letter? The more sarcastic side of me immediately retorted my internal question with a snort - _You are, aren't you?_ I told him to shut up. I pried open my eyes with great force, even the tiny light from the stars and moon temporarily blinding me. I blinked a couple of times, getting adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation of being awake.

I guess the person, whoever it was, didn't see me in the corner that was my makeshift bed, what with all the dark, black robes and cloak I had on. Although the light was small, I could make out a slim figure with dark, jet black hair like mine, although theirs looked almost a dark midnight blue. The hair reached down to the small of their back, and I realized that it was a girl. Her hands clasped a thick envelope of parchment tightly like it was going to fly away any second; I could just faintly make out white knuckles from her grip. She turned towards me, and for a second, I thought I had been discovered, but instead, her bright blue eyes focused above me, where a regal looking eagle owl fluttered gently down to her outstretched hand. She quickly tied the letter to its leg, and walked over to the window which I was resting next to, presumably to send the owl out. I never got a chance to find out.

It was then that she finally discovered me.

Her face remained expressionless, though her eyes betrayed her shock. Her stance turned defensive in the slightest of motions - her arms moved forward to cover her chest, like a fighting position, yet her body was relaxed, but ready to spring into action in a moment's notice. The owl was still on her arm, and she took a single slow step backward, making eye contact with me.

Again, the sarcastic side of me chuckled inwardly, although the reasonable half of me also found the situation somewhat amusing. I hear so much that I have my mother's eyes, 'bright emerald orbs,' people call them. I imagine that it must have been a pretty startling sight to walk towards a window and suddenly seeing a pair of dismembered bright green eyes peer at you from the darkness, unable to see the rest of the body.

My eyes stared intensely into the clear yet dark ocean blue of hers, and we stayed in that position for a few seconds. The wind blew in a strong gust suddenly, making a loud 'whoo-ing' sound, and sending her dark locks of hair into her face. The owl hooted softly, ruffling it's feathers. She seemed to suddenly realize that the owl was still here, and sent it out the window with a gentle push of her hand, her eyes never leaving mine.

By now, I was kind of growing tired of this staring game, and with a great deal of energy, lifted myself off the floor slowly, keeping my eyes matched with hers. I brushed some stray strands of hay off my clothes and finally broke away from her blue orbs, and walked slowly yet deliberately past her and toward the door. At least, I tried to.

At the last moment, she subtly moved her body in front of mine, effectively blocking the way and stopping me in my tracks. She made eye contact with me again, and I vaguely realized I was the same height as her. I also realized that she seemed familiar - I had seen her before, probably during classes. I was shook out of my thoughts by her voice.

"Potter." Ah, so she knew me. Of course, who bloody didn't? Well, there was the sarcastic Harry again. I was getting tired of him actually, he never made more than a couple of comments a day; it seemed like I was feeling particularly bitter today. Probably Voldemort. Besides my sarcasm, I also faintly took in the fact that her voice was soft; I inwardly relaxed - I really didn't feel like talking to a loud spoken git like Malfoy right now. Although, I had to admit, Ron was not much better. Hermione, I could somewhat deal with, but the girl never stopped talking.

"Person," I replied evenly, as I could not remember her name right now. Ah, who am I kidding? I never knew her name. She glared at me in reply.

"What are you doing here?" she asked me. Her voice was suspicious. I gathered that the letter that she had sent was pretty private. For once, I allowed my sarcastic side to answer out loud.

"Sending a letter, that's what an owlery is for, wouldn't you think?" I replied cheekily. "I could ask the same of you."

"And I could answer the same," was her cool answer. Oh, feisty. I kicked it up a notch.

"I saw you send that letter, awfully nervous you looked, want to share?" I said, trying to make her nervous. She raised an eyebrow at me coolly.

"I won't bother a celebrity like you with my petty problems; let's talk about your letter instead. Who was it to? The Daily Prophet for a special interview?" Looks like she knew where to hit. Using my celebrity status as leverage, when she probably knew I hated it. I saw a Slytherin badge on her chest in the dim light of the sunrise. That explains it. Wait a second... sunrise? I jerked my head behind me toward the window, breaking our eye contact, which we had still maintained, and sure enough, the sun was rising in all its glory, the sky painted a mixture of morning hues.

I hated every bit of it.

Squinting my eyes, I turned back towards Miss Mystery and neatly sidestepped around her toward the door.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I'd rather go schedule my next photo shoot," I shot back, and with a cheeky wave and smile, I was out the door. Hopefully, I could get in a few minutes of proper sleep in my bed before morning potions with the Slytherins. No doubt Snape would make the last lesson before holidays as miserable as possible. Her voice stopped me in my tracks.

"It's Zabini. Blaise Zabini." Ah, so that was her name. I merely inclined my head in response and headed back toward Gryffindor tower.

------------

By the time I returned, sunlight was streaming in through the long stained glass windows cheerfully, and I inwardly groaned. All I wanted was sleep, but at this rate, I would only have at most a half an hour before breakfast, then Potions.

I passed a couple of seventh years chatting amiably by the fireplace and I asked myself how someone could be so cheerful this early in the morning. Sarcastic Harry replied, Obviously, _they_ can. I slapped a hand to my forehand in frustration.

"Will you ever shut up?" The words left my mouth before I realized I had said it out loud. An annoyingly factual voice broke my musings of me being somewhat insane.

"Harry? Why are you up so early? Why are you talking to yourself? Is it Voldemort? Did you have a vision again? You should really go to Dumbledore, you know!" I didn't even have to turn around to figure out who it was. Hermione. Only she could spew (no pun intended, har har) out so many questions at once. I continued walking toward the staircase to the boy's dormitories.

"I'm fine, Hermione. I'm gonna catch some sleep." I sensed that she was going to try and pry more, and I raised a hand to stop her from speaking. From the corner of my eye, I saw that I was indeed correct. Her mouth was partly open, and I saw that my hand had effectively stopped her. Damn, I was good.

"I'll see you at breakfast." Without another word, I was gone.

I slowly climbed the stairs, leaning against the wall for support. I could still feel Hermione watching me, but I didn't care. I entered the dorm and stumbled to my bed. With a soft plop, I dumped myself onto my bed, and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

----------------

I suddenly jerked my eyes open, my body awakening in surprise by some unknown force. I instinctively looked toward the clock on my night table.

8:37 a.m.

I groggily rubbed my eyes, before I halted in my tracks. 8:37 a.m. Breakfast: 7:30 a.m. First lesson: 8:30 a.m. First lesson: Double Potions. Snape. 8:37 a.m. Seven minutes after 8:30 a.m. These random thoughts ran amok in my head for half a moment, before I was jolted back to the real world as I made the connections. It was 8:37 a.m. Potions started at 8:30 a.m. I was late to Potions. I was late to Potions with Snape!

"Oh bloody hell."

---------------

I barged into the Potions dungeon, wincing visibly as the door slammed against the wall. Everybody instantly stopped what they were doing and focused their attention on me. I merely stood in the doorway, spotting Snape leaning over Neville's cauldron with a sneer. His head bolted toward me, and his face brightened in a completely fake smile, his eyes promising me a painful death. A cauldron sizzled and popped in a far corner of the dungeon, but nobody minded it. All were focused on me. I smiled grimly as I realized I was the center of attention again. Snape saw my smile, and his own faltered a bit.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! How very nice of you to join us! I was almost about to mark you absent, but then again, a celebrity like yourself is above simple Potions, correct?" I could tell Snape was trying to get a violent reaction from me. I decided to humor him, and retreated into the confines of my mind, letting the sarcastic Harry take over for a bit.

My vision immediately changed. Everything seemed to be a little brighter, and I felt like I was on top of the world. Potions, school, Voldemort – nothing mattered. I could do anything, everything. It was like some force had injected a ton of sugar into my system, and I felt very hyper and reckless. I started looking to the close future, and ignored the present situation. I imagined myself sleeping soundly without any dreams in my bed, the first day of holidays leaving me alone in the castle, just how I preferred. And it was only less than twelve hours away. Fueled by these thoughts, I ascended into a state of euphoria – the world was my domain. My face was plastered with a very large, very cheeky grin, and I responded to Snape's comment.

"Of course, Professor Snape! I mean, I simply lost track of time! You know, scheduling special newspaper interviews takes a lot of hard work! I mean, you have to look at all the different problems that could occur. You know, spending hours deciding which shirt to wear, only to find that it has a small stain in the back. That certainly would not do! I'm surprised myself that I even showed up to this... simple class. I could be doing far more important things than brewing meaningless potions!"

At least I had called him 'professor.' I had to use the newspaper story from earlier this morning, as I couldn't come up with new one that was good enough, but it would do. I heard a constrained snort in a dark corner of the room as I was talking, and saw Blaise Zabini sitting by herself. Snape's somewhat delayed reply put me back into the world.

"I wouldn't have dreamed of anything else, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you could give me insight on a celebrity's feelings when they are forced to clean potions ingredient jars by hand without the use of magic in detention?"

The implication was obvious. He was going to give me detention. I saw Malfoy smirking at me from behind Snape, and winked at him. He lost his composure, frowning. I saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the middle of the dungeon, Hermione frowning, and Ron giving me a wide grin and a thumbs up as he patted the seat next to him and gestured for me. I really didn't feel like dealing with them right now.

Oh don't get me wrong, they didn't do anything wrong, but I just wasn't in the mood for Hermione's quiet scolding and Ron's ramblings. I turned back to Snape, who had a satisfactory sneer on his face, and inwardly smirked as I thought about my next remark.

"I'm terribly sorry Professor Snape, but I must defer this offer. I believe interviews on my daring adventures will be more productive than cleaning. Oh please, by all means, you're welcome to clean them yourself!" I walked past him and took the closest available seat, which happened to be next to Zabini, giving her a noncommittal nod in acknowledgement.

Mutterings immediately broke out through the classroom, and Ron turned to me with a hurt look on his face. Hermione looked almost tear-faced. I ignored them.

Zabini didn't react though, merely returning my nod with a simple word. "Potter."

I didn't give any sign that I had heard her, and turned my attention to Snape, who was now standing back in the front of the room. I could tell that he was fighting an internal struggle: keep arguing with me and risk further embarrassment, or ignore me and keep his dignity? The answer was quite obvious. Snape was surprised more than he let on by my change in attitude, and merely muttered, "Fifty points from Gryffindor." His lack of a comeback lifted my spirits higher, and a concern of passing out from too being too hyper floated into my head.

For the rest of the class, I worked with Zabini on the Dreamless Sleep Potion, and found out that she was a very competent potions maker. At least I wouldn't fail potions today.

By the time class was over, I hadn't exchanged more than ten words with Zabini. The rest of the class was spent in silent work, with the occasional mutterings of students and the subtle sizzles of Neville's cauldron. Ron and Hermione kept on shooting glances at me, trying to be discrete. Honestly, as if I couldn't see them! The next time Ron glanced over his shoulder, I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow very slowly, as if to say, "What are you looking at?" He gulped, and turned back around, just in time to add crushed beans as the potion started to sizzle somewhat. I sighed and turned to my table, to crush my own beans. I wordlessly handed them to Zabini, and she snatched them out of my hand and carefully added it to the potion.

Now, it had turned a pale pinkish yellow, and she stirred it a few times before pouring a small sample in a tube and walking to the front to hand it to Snape. Hit by a sudden idea, I grabbed a couple spare tubes and hurriedly filled them to the brim with potion and corked them, hiding them in my robes just as Zabini turned back around and sat down.

She appeared to not have noticed anything, and disposed of our potion with a wave of her wand and a muttered "Evanesco." I leaned back in my chair, satisfied that the potion was done and put my hands behind my head.

"So, Zabini, you going home for holidays?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. Surprisingly, she suddenly stiffened somewhat, although the change was so subtle that there was no difference unless you were looking for it. Which I was.

"Something wrong?" I asked. She hesitated for a split second, then replied in a unfaltering tone, "I'm staying." After this, I was perfectly content with her answer, but she continued with, "I'm the only one from Slytherin."

I raised my eyebrow. "Oh, is that so? Just happens to be that I'm the only one from Gryffindor staying also."

She merely turned her head a bit towards me. "And that is relevant because…?"

I raised my arms in front of me defensively. "I was just saying, that's all..."

She smirked at my reaction, and gathered her things and put them in her bag and stood up, just as the bell rang for lunch. "Well, see you around Potter." And with that, she was gone.

I snorted at her retreating back and realized that I had managed to talk to her for more than ten seconds. What an accomplishment. Really. There's no sarcasm in that sentence. I think. My reverie was broken by a tap on the shoulder. It was Ron, flanked by Hermione, both with expressions of disappointment on their faces. I didn't have to deal with this right now! No doubt they would demand to know why I sat with Zabini rather than with them. Honestly, they didn't really think that I had to do _everything_ with them, did they? I would never hear the end of it: Hermione, with her quiet pressured questions, and Ron with his blatant remarks of "It was a Slytherin!"

I felt really bad about it, I really did! But I turned my back to them and walked away. I could practically see their shell-shocked expressions. There was a heavy tugging from my chest, but I continued on.


	2. Chapter 2

I must apologize profusely for the lack of updates and word. It's been over a year since my first posting of the story, and now finally I post the second chapter. I have just been really busy with all sorts of stuff and have just not had time to write. Now that things have calmed down significantly, you can start to expect updates with more frequency. However, I am making no promises ;) Thanks to all my reviewers and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Oh, and I will most likely update again before 2007 hits. That's right, you read correctly!

**An important note: I changed some very small details in the first chapter, and you might want to reread it again, simply because it's been a long time and the small details will prove detrimental to the story in the future.**

Chapter 2: The Theory

I decided to skip lunch today to catch some sleep to sustain me for the rest of the day. Popping into the Gryffindor common room, I saw that there was nobody there today – unusual, considering at least one group of students always left their homework to do during lunch. Oh well, I figured they wanted to socialize at lunch before break.

I climbed the twisting staircase into my dorm, slipped into my warm bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep… nap, whatever.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I walked down the corridor to my next lesson, munching on a piece of bread I nicked from the Great Hall just a few minutes before. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione had already finished their lunch and left, to who knows where. My next lesson just happened to be Defense with Umbridge. Boy, fate really liked to screw with me, didn't she? Last day of classes before break and I get stuck with Snape and Umbridge. My criticism of fate was broken by the sound of footsteps in the nearly empty corridor behind me. Two pairs, in fact.

I had been friends with Ron and Hermione long enough to know just how they sounded when they walked. Ron's footsteps, unsurprisingly, were heavy and clumsy, and also sounded dull and slow. Hermione's, also unsurprisingly, were short and quick, and followed a smooth rhythm of "clack, clack". And guess what I was hearing in the hallways behind me? Nevermind, rhetorical question. I subtly quickened my steps, pushing off the floor with greater force with each step, bending my knees slightly more, and making my steps soundless in the process. I could tell they were confused. They had been going at a fast pace, and I simply looked like I was walking normally, yet my specialized method that I had developed back in the good ol' days with Dudley, was unbeatable.

I was losing them quickly, and I would bet they didn't know that I knew they were there. I heard a distinct skip in Ron's step, and I suddenly realized that he had lost his patience and broke into a full run. Determined not to face them, I bent down low to the ground on my next step, and shot myself forward, taking long strides down the hallway at a frightening speed. To a bystander, I would have looked like I was jumping down the hallway at low clearance, like some kind of Olympic event. Ha ha.

-_-_-_-_-

Five minutes later and out of breath, I stumbled into the Defense classroom, getting there a whole 5 minutes early. Unheard of. I managed to lose Ron a couple corridors back, by hiding behind a suit of armor when I turned a corner. I remained there until Hermione came running almost a full minute later, breathing quite loudly. The girl _really_ needed to get out some more.

Well, it was 10:40 a.m. right now, and class started at 10:45 a.m. Of course, no one willingly came early into Umbridge's class, and I was surprised to see that not even she herself came early. What self hatred. I snorted at my own little joke.

My thoughts were broken as the door suddenly slammed open, and lo and behold, emerged Ron from the doorway! Oh dear. His face was red from exhaustion, running, anger, or maybe all of the above. His eyes were set in a glare towards me, mixed with frustration, betrayal and rage. I raised an eyebrow at him and brushed him off. Hermione slowly stepped out from behind Ron, her usual calm face sporting an annoyed scowl. At this I felt a bit guilty. My thoughts about Ron had been unstable ever since his 'betrayal' during the Tri-Wizard tournament, but Hermione had always sticken by my side, through and through. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on them…

My musings were interrupted by a very fake cough, only able to be produced by the one and only... Umbridge. Joy. I could've sworn my enthusiasm at seeing her walk in the classroom could have lit up all of London. Her shrill falsetto rang out over the awkward silence.

"Ah yes! Mr. Potter and friends! I am _ever_ so glad to see that you have come to class early. Take a seat now, and wait for your other classmates to arrive."

Any other teacher saying this would have been thought of as cheerful and kind, but Umbridge's words held an underlying malice. Her eyes were wide with anticipation… but of what? Without another word, she disappeared into her private office. Any further wonderings of what Umbridge had in store for us were halted as I sensed Hermione from my side opening her mouth, ready to speak, and I also felt Ron's face heat up, ready to explode. They were cut off by yet another intrusion.

Draco Malfoy strutted in, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, who got momentarily stuck in the doorway, the result of them trying to walk in at the same time. I snorted at this silly sight. Maybe people weren't exaggerating when they said the brains of Crabbe and Goyle were the size of peanuts. Malfoy's dark gray eyes landed upon me, and they lit up with maniacal glee. My heart fluttered, knowing that I could stimulate this kind of response from Malfoy. I mentally puked. Now _that_ was a disgusting thought. Let's not go there.

Malfoy strolled up to my desk, with the arrogance only a pureblood dark wizard could have, and lazily leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of my desk, his face looming above mine.

"That was a nice stunt you pulled in Potions, Potter."

I raised my eyebrow. His voice dropped down to a whisper.

"Just remember Potty… I wouldn't be too comfortable sleeping at night in the same castle with Snape, if I were you," he said.

"Thanks for your warning Draco," I replied evenly, enjoying the look of genuine confusion on his face. Any further words from him were cut off by the quiet creaking of the door opening, another student entering the classroom.

Blaise Zabini.

Now this was really getting to be a party. Malfoy backed up from my desk, and acknowledged Blaise with a curt nod. She didn't even spare him a glance. Her eyes locked with mine, and I stared back into them, initiating a staring contest. My gaze did not waver, and I could see her eye twitch. Finally she broke eye contact, blinking a couple of times to re-hydrate her eyes.

She walked toward the seat next to me, but intention she may have had was cut off as Ron and Hermione immediately took their respective seats on either side of me, defiantly crossing their arms, just daring Zabini to try something. She did not appear to even notice them, but merely passed them without a glance, taking a seat next to Daphne Greengrass, who had come in behind her during our little staring match. I was admittedly a little disappointed: her silent company was tolerable.

The rest of the class started milling in at around the same time a few minutes later, prolonging entrance into the Defense classroom as much as possible. Ron and Hermione made to talk to me, but every time they tried, I cut them off by subtly changing the way I was sitting, making it look like I was about to say something. They were getting frustrated, and I was enjoying every minute of it. Well, not so much _enjoying_… it was more like I didn't want to talk to them at the current moment. Not too harsh, if I do say so myself.

Umbridge emerged from her office the moment the late bell rang, and shut the door with her wand. Her annoying falsetto voice rang out from her toad like face.

"Today class, I have a special…_treat_ for you, since it is the last day of classes before Winter break!" Here the class murmured, speculating at what kind of foul "treat" Umbridge would have thought up for them. The wonderings of the class were interrupted by the toad's trademark cough, "ahem, ahem."

"Today we will be having a practical lesson." The entire class broke into an excited whisper: never before had they had a practical lesson with Umbridge.

"Wands out! I know you have been reading about Dark creatures and the right spells to counteract them recently, so we will have a sort of….test. You will be performing the Patronous Charm! Now, this spell is usually used for Dementors and Lethifolds, so I managed to secure a real live Dementor, with direct permission from the Minister of Magic himself! This test will be based on how well you perform the Patronous Charm to fight off the Dementor! I will give marks appropriately on my opinion of your knowledge of the spell and performance against the Dementor."

This unexpected news startled everyone, even me. First, a practical lesson with Umbridge? Unheard of. Second, the Patronous Charm, which was an extremely hard charm to perform, much less on (most of) the students' first try? Third, a real live Dementor? Was she crazy? What if it got loose, or some students had some adverse reaction to it? Oh well. Who really cares. After all, the _ministry_ was looking out for us, right? I snorted mentally.

Even though some people were skittering nervously, I knew that I would have no problem with this little task. I mean, I _had_ single handedly drove away a hundred Dementors in my third year, didn't I? But of course, no one's bragging here.

Apparently, Umbridge noticed my lack of concern at the thought of facing a real live Dementor, and decided to pick on me. Again. With an evil grin on her already gruesome toad-like face, she yelled over the nervous mutterings of the class,

"Since Mr. Potter in all his arrogance seems to be unconcerned with a lowly Dementor, I shall graciously volunteer him to demonstrate the Patronous Charm for us!" Great. Just my luck. Oh well. I just might be able to salvage this situation to my advantage.

"Well Mr. Potter? What are you waiting for? Come up and show us your talented skills, dearie!" My thoughts were cut off as toad woman's shrill voice beckoned me forward. Slowly and deliberately, I picked myself up out of my seat and took careful and slow steps toward the front of the classroom where Umbridge was in the middle of pulling out a heavily chained and sealed wardrobe like object.

I barely registered Ron and Hermione sending me wary glances, though they tried to hide it with masks of confidence and unconcern. I knew them well enough. They were not sure of my abilities. I'll show them. I allowed my peripheral vision to expand, and the line of vision in front of me disappeared as I observed Malfoy looking like he might almost piss his pants in joy, Daphne Greengrass observing me with an unreadable expression, the rest of the Gryffindors holding their seats tightly in anticipation, and lastly, Blaise Zabini looking totally unconcerned and bored out of her mind.

Forgetting all this, my mind turned into overdrive as I remembered the real reason why I did not put up a fight about her singling me out. I had a theory I wanted to test. In the space of mere seconds, the world became nonexistent as I used all my mental power to focus on my theory, whether it would work, why it _should_ work, and if it was potentially dangerous to myself or others. Damn I sounded like a fucking scientist analyzing a lab experiment. Screw it, consequences be damned, I decided I was going ahead with this.

My theory was something that was bothering me for a bit. Magic is within all of us – our very essences of life are magical themselves, and we should be able to control it, right? And this is correct; we do control our magic – but not directly. Wands are used to seemingly "generate" the magic, and it is my belief that many wizards and witches forget that they are magical themselves, and think that the wand is the magic. If this is the case, then a simple muggle should be able to pick up a compatible wand and cast spells, no?

But this is not so. Although I do not claim to be an expert in magical theory, I believe that wands are only used to focus our magic and concentrate it into controlled bursts that can be used for specific purposes. You can think of it as a water gun. The water is the magic, and although it is present, the gun, or wand, itself is needed to form a stream to fire at things. But couldn't you just as easily take the water and dump it on someone's head? That I believe, is what is commonly known as accidental magic. This proves that magical folk can use magic without the aid of wands. But the grand question is how? After we acquire a wand, wandless magic is seemingly impossible.

The only reason why it seems impossible is because our minds are too limited by what we learn at Hogwarts. I'm not discrediting the school or anything, but the program really needs to be more flexible. Learn to think outside the box. What are the conditions in which wandless magic has been performed? Extreme stress? Anger? Sadness? The key is _emotion_. I believe that emotion makes it easier to break down the barrier containing your magic and release it directly from your body, without having a wand to draw on and direct your magic. And guess what? The Patronous Charm relies heavily on emotion.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid enough to try complete wandless magic on my first try in a demonstration in front of the entire class. But if my theory is true, then I should be able to at least manipulate my magic into doing things normally not possible with a direct incantation and wand movement.

Damn. No more time to think. Before I knew it, there I was, standing in front of the whole class – which happened to be looking _very_ expectantly at me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an attention seeker or a particularly vain person, but I really did not want to embarrass myself in front of the whole class and make myself look like a big fraud or incompetent fool. I had already decided I was going to go through with this new experiment – what's life without a few challenges, eh? I could just as easily have bellowed out the incantation and gotten this whole thing over with, but if I got this right, I would shut down Umbridge, _and_ impress the rest of the class as well.

I began gathering my magical energy, as I did not know how much would be required for my little stunt. I started out remembering how I felt when I had perhaps my most extreme case of accidental magic. The rush of anger I felt at Marge for insulting my parents. How the center of my body felt exposed yet safe at the same time. How my entire body tingled with force, and how my mind could only focus on one thing: to cause Marge pain. I remember the feeling of power that rushed through me, how I lost control, yet was in perfect control at the same time. However, the most important thing I had to keep in mind was the sensation of magic itself flowing through my body. Once I could replicate that feeling, _then_ I was truly in control of my magic. The hard part was doing this while feeling positive, happy thoughts, while the memory was based on anger. Never mind this small detail.

I searched through my memory like finding a chapter in a book, and came upon the summer before my third year. I saw through my own eyes two and a half years ago Marge's ugly face, the setting of the dining table, and soon, little by little, I had completely immersed myself in the memory. It was much like a pensieve, except from the first person. My vision reverted to the past – now instead of the Defense classroom, I saw the dining room of the Dursley's. The neat and meticulously clean table reflected Petunia's personality, though not in a good way. Next to go was my sense of hearing – I could now hear the dinner conversation clearly like it was yesterday, including Vernon's rowdy snort like laughter. I started to smell the roast chicken on the table, and I knew that I was close. I felt the taste of saliva in my mouth as I bit my own tongue to hold back a retort. Then I felt the surface of the counter as I gripped harder in an effort to calm myself. Then, finally, last to come was my feeling of magic.

As soon as I felt the first tendril of magic reach out, I discarded all of my other senses and used all of my focus to concentrate on that specific feeling deep within my chest, and I clung to it with a madman's grip – I could not afford to let this go. Gradually, I felt it expand and fluctuate like some sort of uncontrollable liquid or chemical. Trying to restrain it was like trying to catch air. Finally, the magic spread throughout my entire body, and a split second before I released it upon the unsuspecting Marge, I suspended the memory, much like a freeze frame.

Still clinging to the feeling of magic surging through my body, I gently reverted to the present, regaining my senses. I was careful to do this extremely slowly – there was too much at risk. My senses returned in reverse order – first I felt the sweat beading down the side of my head, followed by my dry mouth. The old musty stench of the Defense classroom came next. My hearing slowly came 'back into focus', starting out as dull whisperings in the background, going into a large crescendo as my classmate's mutterings returned. More specifically, Draco Malfoy's taunts and insults of failure. I paid this no mind. However, also present was Umbridge's voice telling me that no matter if I was awake or not, she was going to release the dementor _right now_.

I was almost prepared. I snapped open my eyes at the exact moment that Umbridge cut off the last chain and seal holding the dementor in the wardrobe. Instantly, the doors of the wardrobe burst wide open with such force that one of the hinges ripped clean out of the wood. The familiar cold sensation that always marked the presence of a dementor followed instantaneously. Any chances of Umbridge bluffing were thrown out of my mind. This was a real dementor indeed.

I almost lost control of the grip I had on my magic from the sudden appearance of the dementor. At this point, my magic was still in the exact state that it had been when I blew up Marge – that is, I was angry. Angry indeed. Let me tell you, anger and intense sadness and fear to do not mix well together, at all. I almost blew up the dementor, although I'm not sure if that was possible. I was brought back into my 'calculating magical theory testing' mode by my sarcastic self, who promptly gave me a mental slap. I got a grip on myself and began calming myself down, while still maintaining the grip on my magic, gently forcing it to be controlled under positive, happy emotions. The image of my parents came into my mind, and then I achieved the level of control I needed to perform the Patronous Charm.

For all my work and ingenuity, I was so engrossed in controlling my magic, that I failed to notice that in the short five seconds it had taken me to change my magic, one – the dementor, as soon as it came out of the wardrobe, looked for the nearest victim, me. Two – I was less than ten feet away from it, and three – it was now less than two feet away with its mouth wide open and arms ready to engulf me in a bear hug.

On pure instinct, I whipped my arm up so fast I swore my elbow popped, and held it straight against the dementor's hideous face at point blank. I restrained myself from yelling "EXPECTO PATRONUM," but rather, I made my voice dull and unhappy.

"_Expecto,_" the first word had a bit of a rise to it, like I was drawing in breath to a sigh, "_patronum._" The second word was drawn out slowly with a dull note of finality to it, much like the exhalation of a sigh.

I heard Umbridge open her mouth and begin to yell at me about the wrong incantation and emotion; I briefly saw Hermione in my peripheral vision gasp and cover her mouth, as well as Malfoy sit back with a smug smirk. Meanwhile, I had my own smug smirk inside myself. While I was saying the words so dully, my emotions inside were far from it. I was essentially fast forwarding through every single happy memory I could find, from my discovery of magic to flying to my parents, to ensure that I had enough emotion. As soon as I uttered the Latin incantation, I felt the first tendrils of my magic start to react and want to go toward my wand. I held it back with great restraint, (after all, I was about to get kissed by a dementor, wasn't I?) and waited to gather the most of my magic as I could into a little ball in my chest.

At the exact moment I had enough magic, (or was it when I felt the dementor was too near? I couldn't tell) I willed it down my right arm and into my wand, where I felt it disappear from my body. Almost immediately, my body sagged very slightly – I was careful not to show this. I had anticipated something like exhaustion would happen after exerting myself magically.

All of the above had happened in less than one second. As my magic was channeled through my wand, I felt it _vibrate_ from the sheer amount of magic going through it at one time. Then, all was quiet, and silent. My experiment had failed, and the dementor was less than a foot away.

Then, if my experiment failed, and if the dementor approached me and kissed me, how am I telling this story to you right now?

The truth is, my experiment most certainly did _not_ fail, the dementor most certainly did _not_ kiss me, and I most certainly _kicked some dementor ass._

You must be familiar with the phrase, "the calm before the storm." Well, I must say my Patronous charm would definitely be an excellent example of that little idiom.

I admit, I was afraid for a little bit when my wand fell silent and calm. But you must realize, this only lasted for less than half a second. A brief moment after I felt the last of my magic go into the wand, a tremendous white and silver starburst of light exploded from the end of my lovely holly and phoenix feather wand. The extraordinary light show expanded spherically to almost a meter in diameter, then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it collapsed back onto itself and sucked inwards.

Now you may be wondering what in the bloody hell the dementor was doing during the time when it was less than a foot away from me. The truth is, from what I can tell – and here I must say I cannot refrain from smirking most satisfyingly – the dementor was _scared_. How often is it that a wizard stands his ground, does not run away, cower in fear, or break down into sobs, _and_ shoots his wand straight into your face, point blank I might add? If that isn't enough to make a dementor hesitate, then what would a pure and holy starburst of light straight into the face do? And it just so happens that I did both of those two things, thus rendering the dementor very shocked. Or so I think.

But I digress. Just as the blinding light sucked itself inwards, I felt a deep sense of foreboding – a deep seeded feeling of anxiety from within the bowels of my stomach that would have made me squirm if not for that fact that I was about to unleash _something_ into a dementor's face.

In reality what was again less than half a second felt like an eternity to me as instead of the directly blast of magic I had expected… I felt something else… something that I had not predicted.

I had thought that my magic would gather, then release out from my wand and blast the dementor, then that would be the end of it. Sure, there were some side effects, like the starburst of light and the whole business of the 'calm before the storm' and whatnot, but the fact still remained that I had expelled my magic from my body and into the wand, therefore I could not feel it anymore within me. The basic idea still held.

But this new reaction… strange would be the word to describe it, however bland it may be. I had expected the magic to release at any moment now, but instead, I slowly felt the all too familiar tendrils of magic _come back_ from my wand and steadily travel down my arm, wrapping around it like an overgrown weed or vine.

This was all very unexpected, and although you would be hard pressed to find me admit this anywhere else, I was afraid. Was the Patronous Charm rejecting my magic? Was there something wrong with my wand? Whatever the reason, the spell was not going as planned. What I did know was that a very agitated dementor that had just overcome its shock was standing naught but a few decimeters away from me, and unless I did something very quick, I was going to be soulless. Already I could feel the physical cold wrap around my body as the dementor's arms flanked me.

No. I refused to be ended by some lowly random dementor, least of all in Umbridge's horrible Defense class. I once again felt the tendrils of magic in my wand arm, and noticed something that escaped my first examination. The magic was not being rejected or not working at all – what _had_ happened was that the magic created a link between my core and the spell and was drawing even _more_ magic – my own spell was going to drain me dry!

Forget not having enough magic! I already had put most of my magic inside the spell anyway! I had driven away over a hundred dementors in my third year with one spell! If most of my magical energy was not enough to drive away _one_ dementor, correct incantation be damned, I did not know what would. To hell with this. I was going to forcibly eject the stored magic inside my wand right now. Except for one small little problem.

My wand arm would not move.

It would not physically move. Either because of the ridiculously close proximity of the dementor or because of the existence of the link between my core and my wand, my right arm was utterly petrified in its place. I could not do anything – releasing my magic needed a physical motion to break the barrier holding it in. I imagine that had I been more advanced, I could have broken the barrier with a single thought, but that wasn't where I was, now was it?

Out of sheer panic (I admit this freely now), I jerked up my left hand and grabbed my right wrist. Tightly. In the time that I had taken to think (which had been a mere quarter of a second), the dementor had approached even closer. I needed distance first before thinking about any form of retaliation. Leaning backwards, I lifted one foot off of the ground for the minimum angle of elevation, then shot backwards off of the other. Simultaneously in midair, I jerked my left arm up, dragging my right arm – as well as my wand – with it. Now suspended in midair with my wand pointing to the heavens, and I could already feel the coldness of the dementor lessen.

A sudden jolt shot through my body, like somebody had stretched me out like a rubber band and abruptly released me. This was it! The swift movement of my arm had effectively broken the link of magic between my wand and my core. Now I was free to unleash the fury of magic that I sensed trapped within the brother wand of Voldemort. Still hurling back through the air, I forgot about landing on my feet and brought my legs up so that they were parallel with the ground, to give me the most time in the air as possible. Once again I whipped my wand so that it was pointing at the dementor, this time down from the sky, and with two hands. I had it lined up perfectly and in my sights. This dementor was going to hell.

I wanted the most spectacular spell as possible, so I repeated the incantation again – this time I screamed it with no inhibitions.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!!_"

In hindsight I see that perhaps it was a bad idea to unleash my spell as I was in midair.

A great white and silver beam of pure holy magic exploded from the tip of my wand and in the direction of the dementor. The force of the ejection was so great that an invisible wind blew my hair back and I struggled to keep my wand stable with the strength of the recoil.

Without the friction between the ground and myself to keep me in place (for I was in midair), the only possible reaction that could have happened, happened. As the beam of holiness shot out, I was thrown backwards at unbelievable speed and with even more unbelievable ferocity.

A screaming blur of color was all I saw of the classroom as I was blasted through the door and into the hallway. Thankfully, I was standing in front of the door, or else I would have crashed into the stone wall, which I imagine would not have been very beneficial for my health. Not to say that going through a door is healthy, of course.

It was much like speeding through a narrow tunnel – except backwards. I felt the sensation of air ripping against my body and the hollow sound of space passing through my ears. However, straight in front of me, the white beam and dementor were not a blur. Perfectly clear, it merely looked as though I was backing away. Just really fast.

Life again was out to get me. One would expect the Patronous Charm to end after I had just been blown through a door. But noo, Fate just _has_ to put me through some more pain. If you can hear me now Fate, fuck you.

I could faintly feel that my back had some shards of wood in it – a cold, cutting pain signified this. But I wasn't paying attention to my back. After all, I was flying through the air, wasn't I?

Again, thankfully, the Defense classroom was located at the corner of where a hallway bent at a ninety degree angle. So it was with great fortune that I was again not blasted into the wall, and rather, sent flying down the hallway.

And I flew. I flew and flew, through the corridor of Hogwarts for a good thirty meters. By now, I was incapable of any thought process at all. Soaring through the cold stone passage, my mind was in numb shock – I barely registered that the magic beam had finally begun to diminish, and as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving behind a silvery trail of particles in its wake.

I was not privy to this world of detail. I had begun my descent, and by no means was it soft. The recoil had finally driven my wand pointing up and ahead, at an angle toward the ceiling. This in turn had caused the rest of my body to face a little upward as well. Not good. The first part of me to touch down was my back. At first contact, I felt a searing burning sensation, as if someone had taken my skin and pulled as hard as they could. The resulting friction caused me to skip back up into the air, much like an airplane landing.

Although I was glad that my back was no longer being pulled off, I was not out of danger yet. The bounce had exerted a force upon me such that I was now upside down in midair, and all I saw was the stone ground approaching closer and closer toward my head. And I most certainly did not want to land on my head.

A sudden shock of sense washed over me, much like having a bucket of water thrown at you to wake you up. At the last moment, I jerked my shoulders toward my legs so that I had twisted to become horizontal in the air. At least now my head was safe.

With whatever time I had left, I mentally braced for the impact, which I knew was going to be painful. At last, I touched down again, this time on my side, and immediately I began rolling down the hallway, out of my control. Somewhere in the scuffle my wand had escaped my hand, and after what seemed like an eternity, I stopped rolling and slid the last couple meters on my stomach.

Pain. Pain was all I knew at that point. My stomach and back burned as if there were no tomorrow, my bones were sore and felt as if they would break any second. Inside my chest there was a screaming within my magic – I had completely and totally exhausted myself, physically and magically. But by far, worst of all was my right arm. Through my bent and lopsided glasses that perilously rested on the bridge of my nose, I saw that it was entirely dark red… and steaming. Thankfully I could not feel any of this – I imagine it would have been quite painful. From my shoulder down to my hand was all numb.

My beautiful holly and phoenix feather wand gently rolled toward me – I noted with immense relief that it had escaped the ordeal unscathed. Now resting just inches from my face, I could see every detail of the wand. Dark, rich wood that gleamed with life from beneath the miniscule layer of fingerprints and dust that covered it – I had not taken care of it well. Wait – I noted with great care an almost microscopic flaw in the perfect wood structure… a crack. My wand was cracked. As if I was not in enough pain already, my heart shrieked with devastation. My wand… my beautiful wand that I cherished with every fiber of my being, was cracked. Ever since the incident in the Chamber of Secrets, I had formed a special connection with Fawkes the phoenix. I felt at peace with him whenever he was near, and I had since understood why phoenixes are such remarkable creatures.

Slowly, with a shaking hand, I reached for my wand. As I touched it… the crack slowly and painfully enlarged, now being more visible and going down the whole length of the wand. I shrank back with fear – what was going to happen to my wand? My question was answered soon enough. With a sickening crack, the fissure in my wand separated, and without a dramatic explosion or spray of fireworks or magical backlash, my wand broke down the middle into two pieces.

Broke.

At that moment, a single tear escaped my eye as I lay injured in the hallway of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I saw the brilliantly red feather of Fawkes prodding out from the splintered wood, and this helped me somewhat. I knew that the majestic phoenix would not care that I had broken the wand that he helped to make – he would be more concerned with my health. Speaking of…

I became all the more aware of my surroundings with each passing second. I dimly saw down the hallway students peering out the door nervously. As if I was going to do something like that soon in this condition! Psh!

I heard footsteps. Very light. Almost nonexistent. Soft. And _very_ powerful at the same time. I knew of only one person in the entire universe that fit those descriptions. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Now I was safe. I would be brought to the hospital wing and cared for, and he would somehow fix my wand as well. Such was the power of Dumbledore.

He came from behind me. And suddenly I heard his warm and soft voice telling me not to worry and to rest. Everything was going to be fine. Not a moment later, I heard Fawke's regal phoenix song – my pain immediately all but disappeared and I was in bliss.

I saw his violet and midnight blue robes adorned with sparking stars - very much like his own twinkling eyes – walk up to the Defense classroom and mutely heard some words being exchanged. And then…

"_OBLIVIATE!_"


	3. Chapter 3

Oh god, I'm looking at the A/N I wrote for the second chapter, saying that I would have the third chapter up before 2007 hit. Well, two years later, here's the third chapter. Enjoy. If you really want status updates, just email me or send me a message and I'll respond.

And I don't own Harry Potter.

**If you've read the first two chapters, go back and reread them, because I made small changes that are significant plot-wise.**

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Chapter 3: The Discussion

Magic is a wonderful thing, isn't it? I mean, the potential is practically limitless. Think about how one magical person living in the middle of a muggle environment could change so much. One wizard or witch (can't forget the fairer sex now) with the right intentions, could very well save hundreds of lives or progress society by years. A wizard in the guise of a doctor could vanish tumors and unclog bloodstreams with a simple Vanishing Spell, a charm taught to fourth years. So much good could be done in the world, yet those "evil bad men" always have to pop up, don't they? But alas, the world is a cruel place, so the magical world is caught up in its own civil war, while the rest of the planet goes on with everyday life, never knowing of the conflict right under their noses.

I mean, magic can even erase people's memories. Huh, imagine that. Losing a part of yourself, the very things that define an individual. It must've been a sick mind to invent the Obliviate spell…

So when the headmaster of my school, whom I dearly respected and thought of as the epitome of Light, incanted in his usual soft but firm voice, the words to the spell, I must admit I was shocked.

First there was confusion about him even _needing_ to use the Obliviate spell, I mean, all I did was release an uncontrolled Patronus, right?

But after I heard the words to the spell, I immediately scrunched my eyes shut and looked away from his vicinity, as if that simple maneuver could protect me from him if he truly wished to erase my memories.

It turned out I had nothing to fear though, because after a few moments, when I had dared to open my eyes again, I found myself staring straight into the famous 'piercing' blue eyes. They were twinkling as usual… damn. I _had_ to figure out how he did that.

He smiled the benign smile he always smiled, and leaned over to look down on my body as if peering at a curious sight on a stroll through the park.

"Hello Harry."

'HELLO HARRY!?' _That_ was all he could say!? If I could, I would've sputtered and steamed about the eccentricity of this man, however great he was. But all I could do in my current state was give him a mocking glare and a little pout of the mouth. He chuckled.

"And I would offer you a lemon drop if I could Harry," he…_replied_!? I was pretty sure I could've died right there and then, from utter shock. It must've shown on my face too, for the Headmaster laughed again, but this time it died on his face. Taking on a more urgent look, he glanced at my right arm, still red and steaming, and then at my wand, resting in all of its glorious two pieces on the floor.

Frowning but not speaking a word, he wordlessly levitated my body and off we went, on a magical journey through the halls of Hoggy Woggy Hogwarts!

I grimaced at myself mentally. Is this what I had been reduced to without a fully functioning body? Hoggy Woggy Hogwarts? Where in _hell_ had that come from? Maybe I really was turning crazy… Gah, if anyone was crazy around here, it just had to be the man that happened to be floating me around right now. But with this statement, I couldn't help but inwardly shudder at my helplessness at this particular moment in time. If Dumbledore happened to be an old manipulative bastard that had secretly been taking the Elixir of Life to stay in the shadows and control this entire war with Voldemort… I shuddered at the mere thought. Of all the absurd things to be able to think of, _that_ one just had to take the jackpot.

I continued my muse for a while, but I increasingly grew drowsier with each random thought that passed my mind. Suddenly I found my surroundings very familiar, and I cursed myself for not realizing it sooner. Of course Dumbledore would take me here, where else could a person in my condition go to?

I shouldn't make it sound like something else than it is though. No, this place could be a downright miserable room, depending on the reason for the visit. In this case however, I had a nasty suspicion that it would be one of my more… unpleasant visits.

Yes, I had been inside The Room before, and the situations both inside and leading up to the room were full of pain every time. Some saw fit to call it my 'second home,' though I thought that was going a little too far. On second thought, it really wasn't _that_ horrendous of a room. I don't really know why people thought it was so bad. I mean, all you did was take a couple bad tasting potions, but they were all in order to heal you anyway. And Madam Pomfrey wasn't as intrusive or forceful as she appeared. Deep down, she was just a caring healer, albeit somewhat overprotective.

It was with this self-contradicting thought process that I was brought into the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. After some hushed fussing with Dumbledore on Pomfrey's part, I was finally settled into one of those sterile white beds that never really felt completely natural. A minute or two of checks later by Pomfrey (and a foul potion), I felt my eyelids close and I fell into the realm of sleep…

- - - - - - - -

My eyes snapped open. It seemed I was waking up suddenly more and more now. Strangely enough, I had full control of my body and didn't feel tired in the slightest. This led to some questions, namely what exactly had Madam Pomfrey done to me? I always woke up sore and tired, even after being treated for days.

I wasn't one to complain though. Dismissing my odd comfort, I climbed out of bed, instinctively reaching for my wand, only to remember with dismay that it was now broken. Moonlight drifted through the open window, escorting a cool evening breeze. Not feeling like going back to bed, I stepped out of the hospital wing, intent on roaming the hallways.

For a few minutes I aimlessly meandered around the corridors, dragging my hand along the wall in a bored fashion. Unconsciously however, my feet found their way to the entrance of the Headmaster's office. Rather sad, but perfectly natural I think. Here I refer not to me going to Dumbledore, but to my reliance on him. An orphan finding a grandfather figure in his school's headmaster? Please, tell me there wasn't anything more perfectly set up. Plus the fact that said headmaster was also the premier force against said orphan's parent's murderer helped.

I had arrived at the gargoyle – with a sudden realization that I did not know the password. Groaning at my stupidity, I was prepared to shout, kick, and throw a tantrum at the gargoyle in the hopes that it would let me by, however that plan was scrapped as the gargoyle jumped aside of its own accord.

Bemused and wondering if it had somehow read my thoughts, I was just about to take a step up the staircase, when another figure came down it.

Ah, so that was it. The gargoyle must have opened because she was coming down; it didn't read me. It was a tad disappointing though – I could imagine myself getting special access to the head's office without need of a password: a sort of V.I.P.

She stopped at the same time I did. Putting on a scowl, I made to shove her aside and up into the office, but having the higher ground, she mercilessly shoved me back down and I fell unceremoniously onto my arse on the cold floor.

Nonchalantly picking myself up, I again tried to walk up, but this time she stopped me with her voice.

"Potter."

"Zabini," I replied viciously; I really was not in the mood to talk to her right now.

"You seem flustered. Could it be because you're realizing how pathetic you are, not being able to control your own magic?" Her voice was irritatingly calm.

"No…" I gritted out slowly, "it's because of all the people I had to come across, it had to be some wannabe Death Eater in training." She was completely right though. I _was_ flustered because of the Patronus – don't get me wrong, I know can do the spell. But combined with my wand breaking and my losing control of my magic, it was more than enough to put me in a foul mood.

Her eyes narrowed warningly. "Typical statement for an ignorant Gryffindor to make," she spat out.

"Typical statement for a Slytherin too," I interrupted.

"Why don't you duel this 'wannabe Death Eater' if you're so sure of yourself?" she continued, "Oh wait… you don't have a wand."

I cringed at her direct blow. But even without a wand, I still had another weapon…

As fast as I could, I reached into my pocket and fished out Sirius' knife, flicking the blade open as I drew it out. Before I could get any further though, I found myself staring down the end of Zabini's wand, a motion that I haven't even noticed in the split second that had elapsed.

Uncertain of myself, I glanced at her furious eyes, unable to match her anger.

"Don't. Even. Think about it," she hissed softly.

I glared back just as intensely, hating the feeling of being cornered. My fury built up even more with the fact that I was at the mercy of some stupid bitch that I had only met less than twenty four hours ago.

Without even noticing it, my body was now filled with the same feeling, the same feeling when I had blown up Marge and the same feeling I had experienced earlier today in the Defense classroom. My magic was reacting to my anger.

The now almost familiar feeling of the power within me danced within my body, fluctuating eagerly. Quicker this time, I shot the feeling down my arm, and into the knife. My arm tingled and I could feel the small hairs on my arm stand up in a domino effect as the magic traveled through. Sirius' knife started to burn. Hot.

Discarding all rational thought, I swung my right shoulder up, my arm trailing behind in a whip-like fashion as I twisted my torso. In the process I was forced to duck my head down and allow my arm to shoot up to avoid twisting my shoulder. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened as I _felt_ a blue jet of light shoot past my head – it was abruptly cut off.

Standing erect again, I surveyed the scene. My hand was now empty; the burning knife had shot out of my hand in the whiplash, now steaming down, embedded in the solid stone of the ceiling. Blaise Zabini stood paralyzed in front of me, a rare expression of shock adorning her face. She was still holding her wand.

Half of her wand that is.

The first half of the stick remained in her hand, a clean cut revealing the unicorn hair core inside, the wood glowing red and flaking away like a dying cigarette. The other half was tranquil on the ground, useless as the piece of wood it was.

I looked at Zabini at a loss for words. Too bad I was speechless; otherwise this would've been the perfect moment for some witty comment. But at the same time, I was a little relieved that I hadn't said anything stupid – losing a wand myself earlier that day, I knew what the sudden shock felt like. I'd like to think that I'm a reasonable person. Zabini hadn't really done anything to me so far, and so it was only considerate for me to not be an arse.

Still, I still had to face the fact that I was the one to ruin her wand in the first place. And judging by the livid glare she was giving me, I didn't think the considerate and understanding approach was quite going to work here.

"Look-" I began in an effort to make it clear I was sorry.

"Potter…" She cut me off, barely ground out my name.

Although I was sorry, I wasn't particularly keen on the idea of placating a furious Zabini. Thankfully our commotion had created a bit of noise, and Dumbledore peered around his rotating stairway as he made his way into the corridor.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Zabini," he started, "I'm pleased to see such friendly interaction between the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses." We both looked at him like he was daft.

"Oh, what's this? Miss Zabini, I daresay you've run into a bit of an accident. This simply will not do, you must have a fully functioning wand to continue your studies…"

Accident? Who was he trying to fool? But then I looked into his eyes and saw that damn twinkle, and knew that this was all a big joke.

"Yes, yes…" Dumbledore mused to himself. "Speaking of, Mister Potter here is also in need of a wand. Why don't the two of you step into my office for a bit?" he asked, not quite leaving an option.

And so it was that I found myself sitting across from Dumbledore and next to Zabini in a very awkward situation. Most of the portraits on the wall were sleeping, some rocking back and forth rhythmically, and arbitrary puffs of smoke or tingles came from the various magical trinkets on the shelves. Even though it was the dead of night, the room still hummed with a decidedly alert sense of… life.

Zabini had taken a seat very naturally in the only open chair when we'd walked in – I supposed it was to be expected, given that she had just exited the office when I arrived. The headmaster effortlessly conjured another one just like it though, and now we sat.

And sat.

Zabini had taken on a very attentive posture, casual yet focused. She crossed her legs neatly and leaned back just slightly, placing her hands somewhere in-between crossing her arms and putting her hands in her lap.

Dumbledore had a gentle smile on his face, taking on a pose much akin to Zabini's. His however, looked much more natural and comfortable, and he seemed completely at ease where Zabini was comparatively tense.

I however, would have none of that. "Oh screw this," I mumbled out of frustration, and heaped myself down on my seat, slouching all the way back and stretching my legs out. I propped up an elbow and put my head in my hand. I had to admit, the chair was very comfortable. I voiced this compliment. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Thank you Harry," he said with the smallest of smirks, leaning forward. "In actuality, I must shamelessly admit that this particular conjuration took me the better part of two decades to perfect – as newly appointed headmaster I felt that it was important for me to provide comfortable seating for my guests. Do try and keep that to yourself though; it would seem foolish if news spread that it took me twenty years to learn how to conjure a chair. People just don't understand the intricacies of texture and plush which require the utmost focus."

I snorted, unwilling to imagine the esteemed headmaster in such a situation. But we had begun to digress.

"Professor…" I didn't know where to begin. "What happened today in the classroom? Why did you obliviate all the students?"

I realized my blunder with a jolt and hastily glanced at Zabini, then to Dumbledore, then to Zabini again. He seemed to get the message and flashed me a reassuring smile.

"Harry I would not worry about Miss Zabini and the incident in your Defense class. My reasons for the obliviation are sound. I had just arrived at the scene to find your smoking body and a split wand, along with a thoroughly dazed and disabled Dementor, quite clearly in pain. As I was myself not quite sure what had transpired, I obliviated the students to quell any rumors about this unnerving incident. Also, since this appears to be a quite powerful new technique or whatever it may be, I wanted to keep it from spreading outside the school, namely to the media or to Voldemort."

I gave him a pointed look. "Yes I do know some of our students have parents with dark ties, but at this point I neither wish nor have the power to deal with these connections accordingly," he replied. "I wish to give the students a chance to make their decisions without the influence of their parents, and taking action against simple reporting duties would be detrimental to my belief. Stopping this outflow of information would accomplish nothing, for Voldemort would still find another way.

"That being said, I would not worry about Miss Zabini spreading this information around," he finished, giving her a meaningful glance.

Zabini nodded stiffly, and a sudden thought struck me.

"Hey wait, you were in the classroom too. Why weren't you obliviated?" I doubted Dumbledore deliberately excluded her from the spell.

"Anti-obliviation measures, Potter," was her short reply. Hm. I wasn't aware such techniques existed. What would the manifestation be like? A piece of enchanted jewelry? A potion or ward that would deflect a certain number of obliviations? The concept was interesting.

"Would you mind giving me a short explanation of what happened, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. I snapped back into focus, giving a jerky nod. Again I glanced at Zabini for a second, but shrugged mentally. I didn't think it was terribly important information and Dumbledore seemed unconcerned.

I gave him a heavily abridged version of my theory and the process in which I had attempted to implement it. Zabini looked bored while I talked, but I could tell she found the concept interesting. Dumbledore grinned knowingly while I spoke, leaning back into his chair. When I had finally finished with how I had been blasted back into the hallway, he gave a soft laugh.

"Oh Harry, and here I was thinking that you had stumbled upon some secret power." His eyes were filled with mirth. "The concept you just described has been tried and tested by many wizards for hundreds of years. The principle itself is based on emotion-fueled accidental magic, and has no certain name, but the idea is a logical one.

"While it is quite common for spells to be strengthened by emotion, it has generally been concluded that applying this process in a calm and conscious manner, while having great potential for strengthening spells, is too tiring a process to be considered practical. The process of reliving a memory and harnessing the feeling of raw magic is something which requires great focus, and frankly, most witches and wizards lack the willpower or memory to do such a thing.

"However, the extent to which you _felt_ and _directed_ your magic – as you described it – is very intriguing. I am admittedly impressed with how sensitive you are to feeling your magic Harry. Hm… I will have to think about this."

I leaned back in my chair, pleased with his near-compliment. I had assumed that my idea wasn't a terribly original one, but at least I found out something about the nature of my magical capabilities. Somehow the notion that I could feel my magic better than most people comforted me; I felt like I shared an intimate bond with it.

We reached a lull in the conversation and Zabini used the opportunity to speak up.

"Headmaster…?" she began. "I don't mean to be rude, but as interested as Potter's story was, that wasn't the reason why we're both here. You mentioned something about wands?"

"Ah yes," he replied. "Since both of your wands have been destroyed, I think a trip to Ollivander's is in order. Would tomorrow morning be suitable? I think it is best not to wait."

I gave him an affirmative nod, as did she.

"And sir?" Zabini called out before our dismissal, "what about… consequences?" I had to think for a moment before I realized what she was talking about. "Potter kind of… well, he destroyed my wand." At least she had the decency to look a little sheepish as she asked for my head. If it were under any other circumstance I would have lashed out, but I knew the truth. I had destroyed her wand, and I knew from experience that 'I was provoked' was not an excuse. I bowed my head in acknowledgement.

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a second, exhaling. "This is true, and destruction of a wand is, while not a major criminal offence, a very personal blow. She is right Harry, and I am relieved to see that you realize this as well." I nodded silently. "However, in light of the fact that you too have lost your wand in an unfortunate accident, I am willing to be lenient. I hope Miss Zabini can understand this as well."

Zabini scowled for half a second, but then seemed to consider his words, and grudgingly nodded. It was more than I could hope for, especially considering how pissed I would have been if someone sliced my wand in half.

"That being said," Dumbledore continued, now with a smile, "your punishment will be decided at a later time Harry. It is late and we best turn in for the night. I shall arrange for us to leave via portkey from the Entry Hall at 10 a.m. sharp," he said now addressing the both of us. "Please try to be timely." And with that, we took our clear dismissal and bade the headmaster good night.

Walking down the hallway now, an awkward silence filled the space between us. Now that Professor Dumbledore wasn't around, I half expected her to give me an earful about how she was going to make my life miserable for destroying her wand.

But it didn't happen. She continued to walk with strides full of purpose, never sparing me a sideways glance as she walked, for all intents and purposes, alone. It was a little unnerving, but I couldn't just finish the night without a proper apology. There had never been any conflicts between us, hell I hadn't even known her until last night, and I didn't really want to antagonize anyone else right now. Thinking about it, the only reason why there was a tense atmosphere between us at all was because she was a Slytherin and I was a Gryffindor. She hadn't done anything to me personally though, unlike most of the other Slytherins in our year.

I mustered up my vocal cords with this reasoning behind me.

"Hey Zabini…" She continued walking as though she hadn't heard me, but I could tell that she was paying attention.

"Look, I'm sorry about your wand. There isn't any real excuse for it and I won't try and make up a bullshit lie. I got angry and lashed out, and I shouldn't have done that. There hasn't been any trouble between us in the past so I'd like to stay that way, but that's probably a foolhardy request now. I just…" I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "I just… I don't know, I'm sorry. I wish there was a way I could make it up to you."

She stopped now; we had reached the point where the path split. Up the staircases to the Gryffindor common room, and down into the dungeons for the Slytherins. Zabini turned to face me now, considering something for a moment.

"…Your sincerity has been noted." There was no sarcasm in her note. "On my part, I regret that I was so confrontational to you while coming down the stairway." Here I even allowed my hopes at forgiveness to rise a little bit.

"Had I known that my actions would have led to the destruction of my wand, I would have not wasted my time with someone so emotionally unstable as you and have gone on my way," she finished in a drawl. I groaned.

"Well then, have a good night Potter," she said haughtily as she waved a hand in dismissal. "Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have a proper wand again."

I cringed a little at the unnecessary blow at the end, but sent back a "'Night Zabini" as I made my way towards the Gryffindor Tower.

At least it was better than nothing.


End file.
